BurningMonkey
TheMan In TheMirror
- Joined
- Jan 21, 2014
- Posts
- 4,861
Paul Crawford, Ph.D., sat behind his desk, looking over his notes on his next appointment. Catherine Davis, 31, married 6 years; husband Michael; one daughter, Elizabeth, 3. Referred for sexual dysfunction.
He leaned back and steepled his fingers. She was a new patient, a transfer from Richard Parker, with whom she was evidently dissatisfied. I wonder what went wrong, there? Well, no matter. A short discussion should establish whether he could help her.
He pushed the button on his intercom—a throwback to an older day, but he liked it—and said, “Beverly? Please have Mrs. Davis come in.” He rose and rounded the desk to greet her as the door opened.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Davis, and welcome to my office. Please, have a seat,“ he said, indicating one of the comfortable leather armchairs set at angles to each other. First impressions: blonde, blue-eyed, curvy (nice, large, rounded breasts, he noted), pretty, nervous.
“How can I help you today?” he asked solicitously as he took a seat in the other chair, leaning his elbow on the arm and propping his chin in his hand. It wasn’t the usual formal pose most in his profession adopted, but he’d discovered that informality, if kept within limits, helped to set his patients at ease.
He gazed at her calmly out of sea-blue eyes and waited patiently for what he would hear.
He leaned back and steepled his fingers. She was a new patient, a transfer from Richard Parker, with whom she was evidently dissatisfied. I wonder what went wrong, there? Well, no matter. A short discussion should establish whether he could help her.
He pushed the button on his intercom—a throwback to an older day, but he liked it—and said, “Beverly? Please have Mrs. Davis come in.” He rose and rounded the desk to greet her as the door opened.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Davis, and welcome to my office. Please, have a seat,“ he said, indicating one of the comfortable leather armchairs set at angles to each other. First impressions: blonde, blue-eyed, curvy (nice, large, rounded breasts, he noted), pretty, nervous.
“How can I help you today?” he asked solicitously as he took a seat in the other chair, leaning his elbow on the arm and propping his chin in his hand. It wasn’t the usual formal pose most in his profession adopted, but he’d discovered that informality, if kept within limits, helped to set his patients at ease.
He gazed at her calmly out of sea-blue eyes and waited patiently for what he would hear.
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